This was not my friend. I drank it because I paid for it. But it wasn’t what I was wanting. Not sure why. It reads like a Joel supreme with cheese. But it was not that. So, I’m reflecting at the moment. I need to know why I keep finding these beers I should like that I don’t like. Let’s think about this. I mean, it’s gotta be something right? Well. Now that I think about it. There’s a thing I don’t fully appreciate inside some of these here hazy bishes. I don’t know if it’s the Motueka hops, the Nordic yeast, or the fact that we aren’t enforcing the hard and fast rule of no double dipping at non-family gatherings. If your dippable comes in contact with your fingers or your mucus, from any fucking hole, keep that shit wholly in your fucking mouth. You choosing to flip some something, and instead of putting your spit back in a dip, you choose to put your fucking dirty-ass finger lingers and the dippable they fingered in the dip does not make you Mother Theresa of cross-contamination. Motherfucker. Fuck. Take the smaller dippable thing, bro. One dip. One mouth. And for fuck’s sake, fuck Nordic yeast and all hops with names that sound like a sexually transmitted disease named after a village in Indiana. - Joel at Flight Bottle Shoppe in Yorkville, Illinois
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Brewery: Buried Acorn & Willow Rock
From: Syracuse, NY
Beer: Mister Whip IPA
ABV: 6.3%
